


The Weight of Choice

by MortalGiant



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Revelations, panic/anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-25
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-07-19 15:44:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19976542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MortalGiant/pseuds/MortalGiant
Summary: William Trevelyan has faced countless hardships in his time as Inquisitor. Yet the impending judgement of a friend weighs on him just enough to make him crack.





	The Weight of Choice

William’s fingers trembled as he looped each button through its respective hole. They felt dull and sluggish.  _He_ felt dull and sluggish. Thoughts of his impending duty raced through his mind as he reached for the silver sash. 

It had been a fortnight since the shock of Val Royeaux ripped through the Inquisition...through Orlais. Hell, through all of Thedas even. At least that’s what it had begun to feel like. Everyone bore down their opinions and suggestions on William as he prepped for the judgment of Blackwall...no...Thom. Thom Rainier. A man he knew as a friend and confidant but apparently seemed to never have fully known. 

Bruised by the sudden revelation, the rest of the inner circle seemed as conflicted as he. They were embittered and sore from his betrayal, yet some saw the worthiness of a changed man. William felt it all in the time it had taken for Rainier to be transferred to Skyhold’s cells. Countless times had they burst through his doors, drug him by the arm, or caught him in quiet moments he’d intended to be alone in only to empty their tangled emotions at his feet. It was touching in a way but also further troubled his own thinking. 

The knot slipped through again and he cursed loudly. Why did he choose to wear this suffocating formal bullshit? Appearances? The hopes that he may be taken seriously as the Andraste  _“blessed”_ mage inquisitor if he dressed the part? On impulse he ripped off the silken cloth and tossed it down, watching as it fell to the floor much too softly for his liking. He spat another curse and started to pace. The quiet clunk of his door barely sounded over the pounding of his heavy boots. 

Dorian’s own footfalls were soft as he traveled up the steps. He watched as the Inquisitor stalked in an endless loop around his quarters. William’s fingers ripped at the buttons on his coat, throwing down gloves and carding through once tied hair as he swore and muttered. 

“William..” he voice was low and gentle, but it had no effect. 

The Inquisitor made a few more loops; Dorian swearing he could see the track he was wearing on the floor. 

He coughed, attempting to wave him down. 

Nothing.

Frowning, Dorian leaned on the knoll post and crossed his arms in front of him. 

“Amatus!”

“WHAT!?” William spun on his heels with a hiss, eyes wild and bleary. He immediately softened upon seeing his lover staring him down.

“Maker, Dorian..I-“ 

The other raised his hand to stop him from speaking. He gave him a few moments to catch his breath. The air in the room was much too tense for it to be healthy. It would have been fitting to see a storm cloud summoned above them.

Pushing himself off of the post he strode forward, ducking to scoop the discarded sash from its landing site. 

“Why is it always me who comes to save the day, hmm?” He smirked, glancing up to William as he threw the fabric over his own shoulder. “I’m starting to believe you do this on purpose.” 

Calmer hands worked to re-loop the buttons slowly, brushing against William’s jaw lightly as he reached the top. The Inquisitor sighed at the passing warmth. It was fleeting and unintentional, but it brought a small level of comfort to the ache in his chest. If only he could escape into it and avoid everything for the rest of time. 

He watched as Dorian spoke idly about the dignitaries gathered in the main hall. Their mannerisms, gossip, and horrid fashion choices. All the things he loved to hound on. But William wasn’t retaining any of it. He was busy staring at his love with tired eyes. Light tugs pulling him forward as Dorian wound the sash around his waist and through the loop at his shoulder. 

The contrast between their choice of dress was striking. William stood half disheveled in the dark and militaristic formal attire that he favored for such occasions while Dorian had gone..well..a very Dorian route. White robes draped in effortless perfection over leather strappings accented by bright buckles. The high neck hanging open loosely enough to reveal the lining within. A decorative gold pendant had been tucked safely beneath it all. It was a gift from William after a rather..inebriated.. stroll through the markets of Val Royeaux they had taken together.

“I understand I’m quite enjoyable to look at, but I feel like I’ve been speaking to a statue.” 

Dorian’s words snapped him from his drifting thoughts. He was looking at him worriedly as he worked on the knot. 

“I’m sorry..I-..” Pausing for a moment, William raised a hand to rub at his eyes. “-I can’t seem to think clearly.” 

“That was obvious the moment I saw you storming about your quarters.” Another gentle tug. “What is weighing on you, amatus?” 

There was a shaky inhale as the Inquisitor dropped his eyes. 

“I’m terrified... I’ve had the literal fate of the world in my hands for so long now. I’ve saved and ended lives without second thought. We saw what would happen if we fail...Yet deciding the fate of a friend...Everyone wants everything and I-...Should I have left him in Orlais?”

Silence hung between them for a moment. Dorian had seen the slow building of stress on his shoulders for some time now. They had met under impossibly messy circumstances, survived even more, yet William remained determined to stop it all. He knew his role.He played it impressively. But in lone idle chatter, Dorian witnessed the confident facade slip slowly. With each new task he grew fearful of his steps; wavering and drawing back where he once charged forward.

“Breathe, please. I can’t have you suffocating yourself with your own worry.” 

A warm hand came up to cup William’s cheek, thumb brushing away the frustrated tears. It was rare to see him cry. In fact, Dorian could only recall one instance where the Inquisitor had let himself do so. There were tears frozen to his skin as a muttered “you’re all safe” drifted from his lips.He had been carried into the camp by Cullen and the other soldiers who found him in the snow. 

They all cried that day. 

“William Trevelyan,” Dorian sighed, “You’re a good man. The best, even. Yet among us all, you have to make the toughest of choices because you have no choice. You are the Herald. The Inquisitor. An unfair burden many pine for yet never realize the weight of...”

“Dorian, I-“

“Hush and let me finish. You know how bad I am at this.” 

There was a nervous chuckle in Dorian’s throat that made William smile slightly. 

“This one though...let it be yours and yours alone; however the world may paint it. Whatever you do we will still stand with you. Oh, there will be complaining, yes. We are all quite good at that. But we all trust you.” 

“Thank you.” William leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss into Dorian’s lips. 

“You’re quite welcome. Now, let’s get you looking presentable.” 

Dorian spent the next few moments adjusting things; chastising William lightly as he hunted down the discarded gloves. One had landed dangerously close to the fireplace, while the other had slipped under the bed. A muttered apology slipped from William and Dorian shook his head.

He spent another few moments pondering his hair, which was now a dark unkempt mess more fitting for a woodsman. Attractive as it was, it was wildly inappropriate for the current situation. Tutting, he pointed to the chair at the desk and told him to sit. 

“You need to find something better to do with this than just tie it back all the time.” Gentle fingers untangled the knots, combing it back and selecting a small piece to braid. 

“I could cut it, you know?” William grinned at the annoyed bat at the back of his head. 

“You know very well that if you cut your hair I would be impossible to live with until it grows back.” 

“It’s not  _that_ bad short.” 

Finishing the first braid, Dorian peered over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “If you got it  _PROPERLY_ cut, no. Though I tend to believe you let Sera handle the scissors the last time. An absolute butchery.” 

“Alright, alright, you win.” 

Kissing his cheek, Dorian moved to the other side and began another braid. Joining them together in back into a half-do. It was simple but did better for him than a clumped knot. 

Leaning forward, chest to back, he wrapped his arms around William. Chin resting on top of his head. Gloved fingers interlaced with his with a tight squeeze. They sat in silence for a time, enjoying the cool air rushing through a nearby open window.

A creak echoed in the distance followed shortly by a closer one. Dorian shifted to pull himself away from his amatus but William held him tighter, begging him to stay as Josephine entered the room. 

“Inquisitor, we-“ she paused, looking up to see the two men. Her eyes were slightly reddened. A glance was passed between the ambassador and Dorian, and she nodded to acknowledge him. “-we are prepared to begin, your grace.” 

“Thank you, Josephine. I’ll...I’ll be there in a moment.” His voice was rough as he answered. 

With another quick glance, she bowed slightly and turned away, pausing as she reached the top of the stairway. 

“We are built on the hope of changing things for the better, Inquisitor.” She continued forward without looking to him. A hand wiping at her eyes as she dipped out of eyesight. 

William sighed until it became a groan. His clutch on Dorian’s hand loosened as they moved to detangle themselves. Anxiety had begun to build in his chest. He wanted to run. Maybe he could hide along the battlements? Or in the undercroft? He could try and claim that Dagna had an emergency with her studies and needed a mage. As he started to fidget fingers interlaced with his once more. The palm of the Tevinter mage pressed tightly against the mark shielded by leather. 

Dorian’s features were soft and loving, stilling the beating in William’s ears. A reassuring grin pulled at the corners of that silly little mustache. Maker, did he cherish that look. He had never known such a gentleness before their encounters below the rookery. 

With a sigh and nod, they followed Josephine’s trail. 

The sound of the door shutting was much too loud in his hears. A crowd of people had gathered to witness, a few of his allies peppered between. Cassandra and his remaining advisors were chatting near Vivienne‘s perch. They paused once they saw him looking their way and each offered a nod in acknowledgement. 

A squeeze of his hand brought his attention to Dorian. He was smiling rather mischievously and leaned to whisper in his ear. “Cullen looks like some great pigeon attempting to blend into the company of raptors.” 

William nudged him with his elbow and forced down a smile. “Please behave.” 

“Always, amatus. I’ll be waiting with them there, towards the door to the tower.” 

“Like some great white goose?” 

“You wound me.” He leaned in to press a kiss to William’s cheek. “I am at the very least an owl.” 

Dorian parted with one last smile, slipping into the ever-growing crowd. The sudden loss of his hold made William feel as if he was drifting and unable to ground himself. Eyes pierced into his skin with each step towards the throne. He wasn’t ready, but Maker knows if he ever would be. 

Josephine stepped forward, clutching on to her writing board. She looked to the Inquisitor with concern as she spoke. 

“For judgment this day, Inquisitor, I must present Captain Thom Rainier, formerly known to us as Warden Blackwall...”

Chains rattled as Rainier was guided to stand before him. The climate in the room shifted to something tenser. Whispers floating through the crowd as the guards depart. He looked done, ready to fall for his crimes and give in. A shadow of the man..Blackwall..that had stood by his side. The man who helped convince him to be more than the assumptions made of him. 

“His crimes..well, you are aware of his crimes. It was no small expense to bring him here, but the decision of what to do with him is now yours.” 

Breath caught in his throat, William scanned the crowd. A few familiar faces standing out among them. Sera specifically seemed to be watching with a mix of worry and quiet anger. He looked away from her, not watching to spark her sense of need for confrontation. Finally, his eyes settle to the tower door. Dorian was leaning against the railing, chin resting on his fist. A small assuring smile formed on his lips as he nods. 

William closed his eyes, a quiet prayer tickling at the back of his mind as he drew in a deep breath. 

“I didn’t think this would be easy, but it’s harder than I thought.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey!  
> So, I’m new to posting fanfiction. Most writing I do is personal, and very rarely shared. I don’t really have plans to do this often but if it goes well, who knows? 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! If you enjoyed it and would like more, let me know! 
> 
> -MG


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